


too scared to say (that i want you)

by urieskooki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, mattsun is a little too angsty for his own good but thats ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:47:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urieskooki/pseuds/urieskooki
Summary: "How could he not hate me if he knew?"Falling in love with your best friend sucks.





	too scared to say (that i want you)

**Author's Note:**

> i missed writing haikyuu even tho its been ages since i was "properly" in the fandom but... idk... i missed matsuhana and i wanted to write them in a way thats not just memelords aha

They say that high school years are meant for experimentation. They say that’s when you’re supposed to discover all you’re meant to know about yourself so you can go off into the wide outside world fully understanding of who you are and what you want.

They say they’re meant to be the best years your life.

Issei disagrees.

 

When Issei is in his last year it occurs to him that he’s  _ boring.  _

The realisation takes him by surprise, so suddenly that he almost drops his pencil, fingers of his other hand twitching around the book they hold upright. It’s a Friday night and while his friends are out having fun, he’s  _ studying _ .

Oikawa is probably at Iwaizumi’s, and Iwaizumi is probably trying to work up the guts to wrap his arm around Oikawa’s shoulder. Hanamaki said he was going out that night and Issei had feigned disinterest, busy packing his cutlery back into his lunchbox until the subject was changed.

Of all of them, Hanamaki is the likeliest to actually go to parties. Oikawa is invited but never interested, Iwaizumi would rather keep an eye on Oikawa, and Issei doesn’t mingle with his peers enough to really ever make friends with them further than lending books.

Which leaves Hanamaki, less socially able than everyone else but still friendly enough to actually have offers to go and  _ accepts them. _

He goes to parties while Issei sits at home and thinks about the fact that he wasn’t invited too, thinks about his best friend off getting drunk, thinks about people kissing him (tries really hard to not imagine himself doing so, without entirely understanding why).

Envy isn’t the right word to describe it. Because that isn’t the feeling at all.

He doesn’t particularly want to go to these parties at all and he doesn’t mind that he doesn’t get invited. What bothers him is that Hanamaki is having fun without him.

 

Iwaizumi is a good listener. He’s always been a good listener but Issei discovers he’s even more so in the face of crisis.

The crisis being - 

“I think I’m- I think I…” Issei grits, fists balling by his sides, “Shit. I have a crush on Makki, probably?”

Iwaizumi looks up from the cups of tea he’s still preparing (Issei hadn’t been able to wait), before carefully rinsing the spoon off, setting it on the drying rack, and picking up the mugs in order to stride out in the living room. Issei trails behind, nervously wringing his hands.

Silently, Iwaizumi takes a seat. Issei mimics him.

“Matsukawa, dude, you know I try not to be judgemental... but  _ Makki _ ?” He finally bursts out after a few torturous minutes of silence, during which Issei contemplates many different freak accidents that could lead to his death and prevent this conversation he himself started in the first place.

This was a bad idea. A horribly, terrible bad idea. Iwaizumi is going to tell Oikawa and they’re both going to laugh about this together.

“No, no, don’t shut down on me. I get it, falling in love with your best friend… It sucks.” Iwaizumi pats Issei’s shoulder with one of his broad calloused hands, “It’s one of the worst things that can happen, ‘cause you spend every second you’re together hoping you won’t fuck up everything you’ve already got.”

“How could he not hate me if he knew?”

“How could he? You’ve been friends for this long, right? He couldn’t hate you.” Iwaizumi takes a sip of tea, leans back against the couch like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “If we get to Nationals, you tell him.”

Issei laughs self-deprecatingly, “And if we don’t, you tell Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi blinks, clearly shocked as red steeps into his face like raspberry tea into hot water, and then he holds out a fist for Issei to bump. “Deal.”

 

They lose to Karasuno.

They lose to Karasuno and the second the ball hits the court with a smack, Oikawa’s face falls with it. He tries to keep it together for the sake of the team but when they leave to collect their things he disappears into one of the bathroom stalls and locks it behind him. Iwaizumi follows him (he’s always followed him) and they don’t come out again until they have to leave.

 

Issei doesn’t tell Hanamaki.

 

It’s the last time they’ll see each other before they each go off to their respective universities and Oikawa is bawling into a milkshake. The others make fun of him, snorting into their own but Iwaizumi’s bottom lip is trembling, and his pinky is hooked over Oikawa’s under the table as if he thinks he’s being sneaky about it.

At least they have the happiness they deserve. The ache in Issei’s chest lessens when he catches the end of Oikawa’s watery giggle.

Hanamaki is silent beside Issei, picking at a pile of cold, congealed fries. He looks up, throws a smile at Issei when he sees him looking but it’s just his mouth that actually looks happy.

For a second, Issei considers confessing.

For a second, the concept of rejection is nonexistent, but then Hanamaki turns away and stabs his fork into a fry, holding it up to inspect it through narrowed eyes like it’s personally wronged him.

Issei excuses himself to the bathroom, and merely seconds later, Iwaizumi fires a text through asking if he’s okay. He’s not but he says he is anyway.

Five minutes after that, Issei is staring at the rings around his eyes while trying to think of reasons to give the others as to why he suddenly has to go home, but before he can think of anything, Iwaizumi slips through the door quietly.

“You should tell him.” Is all he says before he slips past to the urinal, popping open the top button of his jeans. Issei averts his eyes back to his own reflection.

“I could.” He replies, rubbing at the tender skin of his eyebags, “Or, I don’t and our friendship remains intact. I’d rather have someone to talk to next year.”

The sigh that leaves Iwaizumi is heavy, could almost be considered  _ guilty _ sounding if not for the fact that he has no reason to be. There’s silence between them until Iwaizumi huffs again, softer this time, and sidles up next to Issei to wash his hands.

“You haven’t even considered the possibility that he likes you back, you know.” Sometimes he has a way of speaking that’s so matter-of-factly that Issei feels he can’t say no. It’s the kind of tone that makes it very clear that he is not asking, but telling instead.

“How could I? There’s no chance and I’m fine with that. I’ve. I’ve  _ accepted _ it.”

_ Shick,  _ Iwaizumi swipes a paper towel from the dispenser. He doesn’t speak until he’s opened the door again to leave, and it’s so quiet that Issei almost doesn’t hear him. But he does. “He’s leaving tomorrow and then you won’t see him again unless you make an effort to. If you just took more  _ risks-” _

“You know I can’t.” Issei hisses, still leaning on the sink, “I never learned how to.”

“It’s not something you  _ have _ to learn. You just have to  _ try _ .” Iwaizumi looks pained as he closes the bathroom door again so the chatter from the cafe ceases to reach them. “Stop thinking you’re inflicting yourself on people. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t want to be. He wouldn’t consider you his best friend if you weren’t.”

“Do me a favour, Iwaizumi. Shut up and go back to your damn boyfriend. Just because it worked out for you doesn’t mean it will for me.”

“You’ll never know whether he loves you back unless you say something.” Iwaizumi opens the door once more and steps out, gesturing at Issei to follow behind. Issei shoves it closed in Iwaizumi’s face and stays inside until he can pretend he hasn’t been crying.

 

They say goodbye to Hanamaki at the train station, all taking turns hugging him until the train pulls in and then they really have to finish up.

Oikawa is crying again, demanding they use the group chat every day.  _ “If you miss a squad meeting you’ll have Iwa-chan to answer to! Don’t laugh, Makki, I’m serious!” _

They draw each other in for a wet, sniffly hug before Iwaizumi takes over and then, finally, it’s Issei’s turn.

“Makki.” Issei mumbles, face buried in the other’s neck, “Um.”

This is it. He’s gonna say something. He’s gonna tell him.

“Yeah?” Hanamaki squeezes Issei’s wrist, “Quick, dude, or I’m gonna miss my train.”

It’s now or never.

“Don’t forget about me.” He says instead before yanking himself away, “Just - Get on the train before it leaves, asshole.”

Hanamaki barks out a sharp laugh and gathers his bags.

And then he’s sliding in between the doors, hand not occupied with his suitcase flashing them all a peace sign. He grins in that lazy way of his before settling into a nearby seat, watches the doors close behind him with mild interest. They watch each other through the glass before the train starts to move and the three of them are left alone at the station.

Hanamaki is gone and Issei still hasn’t told him.

 

“You’re hopeless.” Iwaizumi says in that blunt way he’s so fond of. Issei can’t help but agree.

 

It takes Issei three months to work up the nerve to simply text Hanamaki a  _ hello. _ He spends those three months thinking of different wordings, things that don’t sound like they’re simply acquaintances rather than supposed best friends.

(“Best friends would text me first.” Issei thinks bitterly, before realising he hasn’t either).

It takes a day for a response to come through, during which Issei experiences the five stages of grief and considers the pros and cons of not looking up and down the street before crossing it. By the time his phone vibrates he’s felt ill for hours, nervousness keeping his fingertips itchy.

_ <From: Makki _

_ hey took u long enough lol> _

Issei looks at the message four times, unease crawling up his spine, before turning his phone off and opening his book back up. He decides to reply later.

 

_ <From: Makki _

_ im coming back for the weekend. we should meet up.> _

 

When Issei wanders into the diner they frequented in high school, three things strike him at once: Hanamaki is skinnier, and he’s got a new piercing decorating the shell of his left ear. There’s also a man hanging off his arm.

Oh.

The brief (not as much as he’d like it to be) idea to book it out of there flashes through his head before he takes a short step in through the door, brushing the thoughts aside, strides across the floor and clears his throat.

“Matsukawa!” Hanamaki embraces him as if it had been mere days since they last saw each other and not months - like there’s no gaping chasm between them at all. Issei hugs back, tentatively, carefully, not holding Hanamaki as close as he once would have done.

“This is Kuroo Tetsurou.” Hanamaki points at the man beside him, and Kuroo smiles in response. Something about him seems awfully familiar, though Issei can’t put his finger on what.

“He captained Nekoma last year,” Hanamaki continues, “And he’s a total babe.”

Kuroo cackles, slapping Hanamaki’s shoulder fondly. There’s something incredibly familiar about the two of them, more so than Issei himself and Hanamaki ever were, and the jealousy festers under his skin like a sore. It’s hard not to be, when Kuroo and Hanamaki seem so much more happy than Issei’s been in months.

(It’s his own fault, he reminds himself, he’s the reason he’s unhappy).

“I came down to meet up with a couple old friends of mine in Miyagi, and Hiro here thought it’d be a great idea to introduce me to his own.”

_ Hiro? Are they really that close already? _

“Cool.” Issei says less than eloquently, tapping the toe of his shoe against the wood of the counter absently, “We gonna order or…?”

“Oh, we already did. We just wanted to make sure you’d find us.” Hanamaki shrugs, “Our food should be arriving soon. Just go ahead and get yours.”

That strikes Issei as being both… Rude and polite, all at once. Rude they’d order without him and polite that they’d want to make it easier for them to find each other.

He turns to the counter and tries to imagine himself handing his irritation over with his payment.

 

Issei wants so badly to dislike Kuroo. He really does. Kuroo has taken his place in his best friend’s life and yet all he feels is hopelessly forgotten and anger at Hanamaki. Kuroo didn’t know what he was doing, because how could he?

All Issei really wants to know is why Hanamaki is behaving so strangely - twitchy, bouncing his leg under the table, laughing a little too loudly at jokes that barely garner a snort from anyone else. Once upon a time Issei would have put his hand on his thigh and pushed hard enough to let him know he was jiggling it.

But he can’t, because Makki has Kuroo now.

He only ever behaves like this when he’s hiding something, really, but Issei isn’t sure what he’d be lying about so he lets it slide.

 

“I fucking - I hate you.” Issei grits, huddled in the bathroom with his phone pressed to his ear. Iwaizumi sighs like he’s used to it (he is), before taking the phone away from his ear to mutter something to whoever is with him. Issei only feels slightly guilty.

“What is it now?” He asks, presumably, once he’s in private.

“He’s got a goddamn boyfriend. A  _ boyfriend,  _ and he says you set them up. I didn’t think you had it in you to be that much of an asshole, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi splutters (very unattractively, Issei might add), before hacking out a few ugly coughs, and then he clears his throat. “I didn’t set them up!” He chokes, “I swear I didn’t. I just said that Bokuto and him might get along.”

“Who the fuck is Bokuto? I’m talking about Kuroo.”

“Kuroo… Dude, Kuroo is dating Sawamura - you know, Karasuno’s last captain?”

“Then why the -” Issei takes a deep breath, “Why are they acting like they’re  _ dating?” _

Iwaizumi makes a noise that sounds as if he should be accompanying it with a shrug, but his voice is a little sharper when he responds. “I don’t know, Mattsun. You know he talks to me even less than he talks to you.”

“But that’s the problem! He doesn’t fucking talk to me at all! He hasn’t since he - since he  _ abandoned  _ me here.” He curls over, presses his forehead to his knees. “No one has...This is the first time we’ve talked in months, Iwaizumi.”

“God, just because we don’t - You never reach out to us either! We’ve all assumed you just don’t care about us anymore so don’t give me that shit. If you’d actually take  _ risks  _ and text us first maybe this wouldn’t happen.”

“You know me, Iwaizumi. You know exactly why I can’t do that.” Issei says and hangs up.

“Why’d you hide away in the bathroom to call Iwaizumi?”

Issei jerks and his phone goes clattering to the ugly cold tile beneath his feet. The screen doesn’t smash but he wishes it would so he’d have something else to focus on, wouldn’t have to look Hanamaki in the eye and try to explain himself without his words stumbling over each other.

Never mind his words coming out stuttered because they won’t come out at  _ all. _

He doesn’t have a real explanation because there isn’t really anything he can say to hide this at all. Hanamaki’s face is slowly falling - eyebrows furrowing, paper thin mouth curling down at the edges.

“If you didn’t want to meet up, you could’ve just said.” He finally settles on, giving Issei that look he usually associates with being disappointed in  _ other people, _ not himself. This is the first time he’s been on the receiving end of such a look and he doesn’t think it makes him feel good.

“No, I did. I’ve missed you, Makki.”  _ Have you missed me? Or is this all just obligation?  _ Issei shrugs, “It’s just…”

“It’s just,  _ what?”  _ Hanamaki stares Issei down, eyes hard.

“I didn’t think you’d be bringing anyone along with you.” It’s not a lie, but he can feel the rest of what follows will be. “I’m just hurt you didn’t tell me you got a boyfriend.”

This is the turning point. This is what will change them.

“I didn’t know how you’d react.”

He’d hoped this wouldn’t happen. If Iwaizumi was telling the truth, then Hanamaki just lied. It stings, god,  _ it stings like a bitch. _

“Don’t.” Issei shakes his head, eyes feeling suspiciously hot, “ _ Don’t.  _ This isn’t about me reacting to anything. You forgot about me, and that’s fine. I just wish you wouldn’t pretend you still want to force yourself to hang out with me.”

“Force myself? You’re my best friend!”

“I  _ was _ . You have a new life now, so do me a favour and cut me out of it.”

Hanamaki freezes, his face going a strange sickly shade of white before he leans in, soft. “You don’t mean that. Matsukawa,  _ tell me you don’t mean that.” _

It’s now or never. So Issei kisses him. He’s crying as he does it but for a second every single repressed emotion he’s had bubbles to the surface, jolts between them like static, and then he’s just a pathetic man in love with his perfect best friend all over again.

“Do you understand now?” He asks, steps back and closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see that awful shocked look on Hanamaki’s face anymore. “It’s been killing me for years and I can’t believe  _ this _ is how you found out. I wish I wasn’t in- in… I wish I wasn’t but I am, and I’m so sorry.”

He leaves the cafe and goes in sits in his room for awhile with the lights off, feet planted firmly in the carpet just for something to anchor onto.

  
  


“Your hair’s grown since high school, you know.” Hanamaki says, standing on Issei’s doorstep. It’s only been hours since Issei effectively severed all remaining ties between them and yet Hanamaki is here. He’s got his foot in the door and his eyes are half-lidded like they always are. He doesn’t look as if anything has happened between them at all.

“Where’s Kuroo?” Issei doesn’t move away from the door but instead folds his arms and stares him down impassively.

“Visiting his boyfriend.” Hanamaki mutters, head hung low, “I’m sorry.”

“Why’d you lie?” Issei steps aside and Hanamaki slinks in, footsteps so familiar in the house Issei has lived in his whole life. They’ve been here together so many times that it seems as if their very heels are indented in the floor.

“I don’t know. I wanted to… prove to you that I’m happy.” Hanamaki shrugs, “I didn’t think about it. I regretted not reaching out to you more and I think part of me wanted an excuse.”

“It’s my fault too.”

As if it’s his own house, not Issei’s, he leads them down into the kitchen and reaches for the mugs hung on the wall, flicking the electric jug on. Issei can do nothing but sit and watch him bustle about, making tea as he’s always done.

It’s a wonder his hands aren’t shaking, because Issei’s own are, so badly he has to clench his fists to hide it.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.” Issei mutters, “I should have asked first but I wasn’t thinking properly.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you back.” Hanamaki’s reply is even quieter in the deafening silence of the house, but the words ring in Issei’s head like he’d shouted them. At first it takes a few seconds for the connotations to register, and then Issei feels something akin to a flower unfurl within his chest, petals brushing against his ribs softer than feathers.

“Makki.” He turns away so any trace of the pink that’s surely spreading over his ears is hidden, but, if the amused huff from behind him is any indication, doesn’t succeed. “I haven’t told you how I feel. About you.”

It’s not like it’s a secret at this point, anyway. They both know.

Maybe he feels so pressed say it because he wants to prove something. Prove he’s no coward. Prove  _ something,  _ just because he needs to.

“Yeah?” Hanamaki slips his hand into Issei’s, rubs his thumb over his palm, before murmuring, “So tell me then.”

He’s so close to saying it that it’s almost tangible, soft and warm on his tongue. When he turns, Hanamaki has his eyes closed, lips caught between his teeth. His expression is nothing short of tender.

“I’ve been in…” It’s hard to get it out, to begin with. The admittance didn’t come easy, even when it was only to himself but actually  _ telling Hanamaki _ is like sucking up too much cold soda through a straw - it burns at his throat, sticks the words behind a cough, carbonation aching all the way down to his stomach. But there’s still that fizz of giddiness, and maybe that’s what’s making him tremble this much.

But Hanamaki has always been patient with Issei, never with Oikawa or Iwaizumi, but there are times when he’s so strangely soft that it reminds Issei why he’s in love with him all over again.

(“I can’t get it right.” Kindaichi mumbles, hands clutching the hem of his shirt until his knuckles turn white. “I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

Instead of getting frustrated (it’s the tenth time they’ve tried the maneuver in as many minutes), Hanamaki shrugs and holds the ball out again, lips curled up lazily. “You’ll get it eventually, so we’ll just have to try until you do.”

Issei feels something catch in his throat that he blames on exhaustion.)

“I’ve been.”

Hanamaki regards him carefully, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve been in love with you since third year.” Issei says finally, “Fuck, maybe I’ve always been. I just never thought about it, you know?”

At first it’s relief that has his shoulders so slumped, and then it’s Hanamaki’s grip that has him so hunched over. There’s only mere inches between their heights but it feels, for the first time, like Hanamaki is the taller one as he presses his mouth against the curve of Issei’s flushed cheekbone.

“You’re the only one I think I’ve ever had eyes for.” Hanamaki says, tucking Issei’s head underneath his chin despite the awkward angle and height difference. “I honestly thought… I thought I‘d never have the guts to tell you and I was right. It was all you.”

There’s a dull pain in Issei’s back from being hunched over for so long and his whole body is warm and shaky, and he’s sure his parents are going to walk in the door at any second like they’ve sensed their twenty year old son is having some kind of romantic moment. But at the same time Hanamaki is the one holding him. He’s the reason for all of this, and Issei doesn’t mind in the slightest.

“I wish I could take you back to Nagoya with me.” Hanamaki grouses, nuzzling his nose against Issei’s temple.

“You sure I wouldn’t mess with your life? Cramp your style?” He laughs but there’s a semblance of truth behind it, and it’s obvious Hanamaki hears it because he stiffens.

“You could never. Unless you wore crocs, but even then I would consider getting a matching pair.” He ducks down -- or rather, releases Issei and allows him to stand to his full height -- to look him in the eye. “Seriously though, Mattsun, you’re not… you’re not inflicting yourself on me, or anyone else for that matter.”

“That’s what Iwaizumi says.”

“He’s right. You think we haven’t discussed it before? He always told me to just confess, you know. Thought it’d make you hate yourself a little less.” He kisses Issei’s cheek again, lingering a little more, a little closer to Issei’s lips.

(Issei files that away to yell at Iwaizumi later.  _ Asshole knew the whole time). _

“Back in first year, when we first met, I thought you were the most arrogant prick I’d ever met in my whole life.”

Issei remembers that, remembers the way Hanamaki had glared holes in the back of his head for weeks.

“And then I got to know you, and I figured it all out: You’re just so fucking self-deprecating, and you come across like you despise everyone you meet. It hides how lonely you are, right? If you’re guarded enough, you can’t let yourself get hurt. Hiding yourself away in your room is the only defence you’ve got.”

It stings, but mostly because it’s true. Hanamaki has always known him better than anyone else.

“I just don’t understand why you would, when the you I know is the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Issei has nothing to say to that (or maybe he just can’t talk without his voice breaking on him), so he just lets Hanamaki hold him as close as he can and tries not to think about what it will be like, in two days, when he has to go home.

 

That night, Issei crawls under his messy sheets and smiles so hard his cheeks hurt. When he looks up he’s greeted with the sight of Hanamaki, bare as the day he was born, standing beside his bed.

“Put some damn clothes on, won’t you?” Issei grunts, rolling over to make room. 

But even in high school Hanamaki had never been shy, so he doesn’t. It’s nothing anyone from the team hadn’t seen before either, but Issei wonders if the rest of the team have seen the big sprawling tattoo curling around his hip.

“What’s that?” Issei reaches out to trace the shape of scales, trailing warm paths down cool, dry skin and Hanamaki shivers.

“Koi.” He replies, standing stock still as Issei’s hand continues to move. “Got it a month after I left, just because I could.”

Issei laughs, “That’s so like you.”

“Can I come in now? It’s cold.” The complaint falls on deaf ears, but only because he’s so fascinated with the delicate curve of the fish’s tail. Hanamaki whines pathetically as he rubs his arms pointedly. “It’s  _ cold.” _

“I see that.”

“Stop it!’ Hanamaki covers his chest with his fingers, hisses irritably. “Traitor.”

Finally, he gives up and forces Issei out of the way in order to lay on the other side of the bed. It’s nothing short of awkward, the distance between them as they lie on their backs and stare at the ceiling. There isn’t even a hint of each other’s warmth.

“Makki?” Issei tugs the sheets right up to his chin.

“Yes?”

“Can you imagine what it would be like if we’d never met?” The question is one that bothers him when he’s at his worst -- what it would be like if he hadn’t met any of the others at Seijou.

Hanamaki wriggles a little, his icy toes brushing against Issei’s briefly before he retreats, almost shyly, “Why think about something as depressing as that?”

They lie in silence for awhile, bed slowly warming with the heat of two bodies.

“What if… What if you hadn’t felt the same way? Maybe there’s another universe where you kept hating me.” Issei whispers and Hanamaki shakes his head.

“I don’t think I could.”

_ You don’t know that. _

The room’s silent ambience is temporarily disturbed while Hanamaki rolls over, shuffling until he’s curled up by Issei’s side. His fingernails run down the bare curve of Issei’s wrist, over his palm, leaving the smallest tingle in their wake. All he’s doing is touching, but the sensitivity has Issei squirming.

Hanamaki’s eyes flicker up to meet Issei’s before they’re dropping to his mouth, down to the collar of his shirt.

“I think,” He rolls the words around in his mouth carefully, “If there was a universe where I hadn’t stopped hating you during high school, then I wouldn’t have been worth your time in the first place.”

With another soft breath inhaled and exhaled, Hanamaki coils himself around Issei like he’s the only anchor keeping him grounded. Their noses brush as they rearrange themselves to accommodate the sudden abundance of lanky limbs tangled in the sheets, warmth seeping into Issei’s extremities the longer they stay entwined.

“When I was a teenager I used to feel like you’d hung the fucking stars in the sky, one by one.” Issei kisses up Hanamaki’s cheek (breath hitching out of sheer nervousness) and over each of his eyelids. Somehow this feels more personal than practically throwing his heart up all over both of them in that bathroom what feels like years ago. “I think I put you on such a high pedestal that it was inevitable you’d fall off one day.”

The irritation washes over Hanamaki’s face, clear as day, before he leans in to whisper, “Yeah, fell for  _ you, _ that is.”

Groaning, Issei rolls over on top of Hanamaki, but instead of the laughter he’d expected, he receives a bitten-off moan instead.

“Oh?” He asks, watching Hanamaki fidget and blush, looking everywhere but Issei.

“Jerk.” He hisses in response, butting his forehead at Issei’s shoulder.

“You want me to do  _ what?” _ Issei bites back, rolling his hips down. Warmth sparks up the base of his spine, numbs his fingers and makes his toes curl.

“Shut up.” Hanamaki throws his head back in a near-silent gasp, “Just-- shut up, and do that again.”

 

Hanamaki looks so annoyed at the train station that Issei has to let out a laugh, holding tightly onto a backpack that doesn’t belong to him while his best friend (boyfriend?) huffs and looks around.

“Tetsurou said he’d be here by now. Our train is gonna be here in  _ ten minutes,  _ and he’s late!” Hanamaki jabs at his phone before bringing it to his ear and hissing into it. The supposed response has his ears pinking before he takes it  away and mimes throwing it onto the tracks.

“He’s too busy getting dicked.” He grouses, curling his pinky around Issei’s own. “I guess I’ll just be going back by myself.”

Issei wishes he could go with him. Briefly, he imagines himself hopping on that train with Hanamaki and never coming back, completely abandoning his life at his father’s hardware store and the same bedroom he’s had since he was seven.

But reality slaps him in the face and he shakes the thought loose.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah? You’ll come to visit?”

“Of course.” Issei brings his lips to Hanamaki’s hand, “As often as I can.”

 

When the train eventually departs, Issei waits until it’s out of sight before he gives in and pulls out his phone.

 

_ <To: Makki _

_ dont think i didnt notice you clogged my fucking toilet before you left.> _

 

_ <From: Makki _

_ <3 love u too > _


End file.
